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Chapter Thirty-Five / 2013


Abbey

The ICU is too sterile for children. I've always thought that it's the most depressing place in the entire world. I clutched Nick's hands as we followed Dr. Potter to Matty's room. We had to wear gloves and gowns and all that ET-looking shit. At least they had bright colored gowns with Disney characters on them instead of plain blue like most ICUs have. Nick tugged on a big gown with the Phineas & Ferb characters while I shrugged into one with Winnie the Pooh. But when we went to go into the room, Nick hesitated at the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

He shuffled his weight from foot-to-foot. "I just.. I feel like... like maybe this is a you and Matty moment," he said.

"A me and Matty moment?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Like... like maybe I'd be imposing or something. I'll come in in a few minutes so you guys have a chance to be alone together."

"Okay," I said. I couldn't tell what I was feeling inside as I turned away. Was I disappointed in him for not coming in? Relieved? Confused? Was he right to allow me time alone with Matty? After all, Matty was my son. Well, he was Nick's too. But that was different. It was by blood not time invested. But he was working on that. And it was partly my own fault. It did feel like I should have a moment alone with him. But at the same time Nick belonged in there just as much as I did. Part of me felt guilty leaving him in the hallway.

But I did.

Matty was laying in the bed at a slight incline, his chest covered with pads and blankets so we couldn't see the opening in his chest, but it was indicated by the PVC tubes coming out from beneath the coverings to a machine on his left. The heart monitor on his side was still and silent, only registering blood pressure. I stared at it. I'd had nightmares about a flatlining monitor for seven years, I thought. And there it was, staring me right in the face.

"Mommy."

I snapped to attention. That little voice was all it took... I suddenly could see nothing but him. I swooped down and took his itty bitty hand in my own. "Hey sweetie," I said.

"Mommy, I didn't get to get your present at the malls."

Tears filled my eyes, "You don't have to get me anything," I whispered. "You're my present."

"I was gonna get you a good one," he said, voice creaky, eyes droopy.

I squeezed his hand, "You're the best there is," I said. I bent down and kissed his little cheek softly. "The very best."

"Is Mr. Nick here?" he asked.

I nodded, "He's right out in the hallway, sweetie."

Matty stared up at me, his little lips were so dry. With my free hand I reached into my pocket and fished out the chap stick I keep in there at all times and I slid it across his lips. He smiled weakly and his eyes drooped closed, then open again. "Mommy?" he asked as I recapped the chapstick and put it back in my pocket.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't nobody tell me Mr. Nick is my Daddy?" he asked thickly.

My throat constricted. I took a deep breath. "What?" I asked - because I couldn't believe my ears, couldn't believe he was asking me that question. I wanted to ask him how did you find out or something.

"Mr. Nick called me his son at the mall when he called for help."

I felt dizzy. Nick had called Matty his son? Nick had used the word son? I knew how colossal that must've been. I pictured poor Nick, panicked and calling for help, shouting the word he felt. A thrill went up my spine because at the base level, when the worst is in the midst of happening ,the subconscious of him had called Matthew his son.

"Is he my Daddy?"

I swiped my sweaty palms across the dressing gown. "I -- uh --"

Matty was staring up at me.

I took a deep breath. "One second, sweetie."

I ducked out of the door, sticking my head just outside. Nick was sitting on a plastic chair in the corner of the room where we'd been given the gowns. I hovered a moment. He was staring down at his hands. "Nick?" I said gently, stepping up to him. He looked up, eyes ringed in red. He'd been crying. He swiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Nick, you should come in with me."

"But - don't you want time to be a family, you and him?"

"Our family includes you, Nick."

He stared up at me with questioning eyes. "What?"

"Nick... it's time we told him who you are."




Nick

I didn't remember saying son at the mall. It must've been a base fear reaction. I say that not because I didn't feel it, but because I'd been real careful not to say anything because I didn't want Abbey to be upset I told him before she was ready for him to know. But she didn't seem upset as she told me what Matty had said when he asked her.

I followed Abbey back into Matty's room. I felt nervous. It was a strangely familar kind of nervous - the kind I used to get going on stage, when I was younger and more stage fright than I am today. An energetic kind of nervous.

Matty really didn't look good. It scared me how pale he was and how little he looked and how fragile he seemed in my mind. He looked over at me and I saw that his eyes looked worn and tired, like the eyes of an old man. He'd seen the trials of one, that's for sure. The smallest of smiles traveled over his lips, so faint it was like a whisper. Abbey followed me right over to his bed and Matty reached out his little hand for mine and squeezed my fingers in his grasp. "Mr. Nick," he said, his voice creaky and weak, "Are you my daddy?"

I nodded because words couldn't seem to form in my throat.

It was unpoetic, nodding the answer to such a hugely life-changing question. Almost anticlimatic. But it's all I could muster. I could feel emotions tearing apart my guts. I didn't know what to expect. Was he angry with me for not being there for seven years of his life? Hurt that I didn't tell him sooner? Was he disappointed in me, disappointed that after wondering all this time about his father he finds out it's someone like me, someone who could let him down as big as I felt like I had.

He squeezed my hand tighter. "I always wanted a Daddy," he whispered.

I opened my eyes -- I couldn't remember closing them, but I could feel tears leaking across my cheeks I didn't quite remember coming out of me either. It was a surreal moment, everything felt blurry around me.

"It's all I want for Christmas," he said.

I still couldn't speak. I couldn't. There were no words to say. My throat felt like it was sealed shut. I thought of the picture, the five-star wish, the one that I'd magneted to the fridge back home and I thought of Abbey asking me if we were together and the smiley face and the magic of the way she made me feel and how important it'd been that I be all the way in before we told Matty about who I was... and I was so, so, so in it all the way. There was no getting out for me, ever. And then, I felt Abbey's hand on my back, and I started to cry. I don't usually cry about stuff, but I couldn't not cry. Matty squeezed my hand even tighter. "Why are you cryin' Mr. Nick?"

Abbey was rubbing my back right alnog my spine. It felt so good, so reassuring. I hadn't felt so home in so long. Maybe even in all my life. "I'm just happy," I choked out to answer Matty.

"Happy?"

I nodded. "I'm happy because you're okay. And because I'm so proud of you."

Matty's little lips curled into a smile. "I'm happy too Mr. Nick," he said, "But it's silly to cry when you're happy. Crying's for sad."

"it's for happy too," I answered, and I pulled Abbey into a hug so I could feel my family.